Eskimo Kisses
by seaofwords
Summary: After years and years, Matthew and Mary are finally engaged, and get up to all sorts of winter fun. Written for the M/M Secret Santa. Fluffy and smutty.


_Hi everyone. i'm back! I'll have an update for my "I Really Should Lock the Door" story soon, I promise! I haven't forgotten about it; I've just been taking my time because I really want to get the next chapter right. Anyways I finally am getting around to posting the fic I created for the M/M Secret Santa this year._

Story Notes: This takes place after everyone's favorite engagement scene ever. It's mainly canon, except Tom and Sybil are at Downton for the holidays also. On a more personal note, I drew the inspiration for this story from an event that actually happened to my grandparents' when they went on a date ice skating. Read on to find out. Please enjoy!

Finally, breathlessly, Mary pulled her lips away from Matthew's. He moaned pitifully at the loss of contact, and although she consented wholeheartedly with his despair, she also was far too prudent to forget the logistics of their situation. They had, after all, already been lying on the couch for over an hour entangled in this embrace. Despite either of their desires, they'd have to separate soon, otherwise this would continue all night... Which seemed unwise to do in the middle of her family's very public living room.

"Darling," Mary started, her voice coming out much hoarser than she had anticipated, "as delightful as this is, perhaps we had better continue this in the morning."

Matthew leaned forward and placed another languid kiss to her lips, before slowly drawing them away. "Regretfully, I think you're right. I'd hate to end our engagement so soon because your father strangled me... Or worse, Carson."

Mary chuckled, and he smiled, before planting another kiss on her lips. "Promise me I can come back first thing in the morning so we can announce our engagement." He peered at her with hopeful, adoring eyes.

"Actually," Mary began nervously, avoiding his gaze, "I was hoping we might keep it a secret. For a day or to at least." She glanced up, and caught a flash of pain in Matthew's eyes. It looked as if he were going to open his mouth to speak, but she continued quickly. "It's not because I don't want people to know, please don't think that at all, Matthew. It's just... Oh, I don't know... People have been getting in our way and meddling in our relationship for years, and while I do appreciate their care, I'd just like to have a day or two with you and me, all to ourselves, without the interference of the rest of the world."

She glanced cautiously up at him, and her heart melted at the tender smile he granted her. "Very well, darling, tomorrow I'm all yours... Although that will never stop, just because other people are watching." Mary beamed and kissed him again; not the heady, passionate kisses the couple had shared earlier, but kisses of tenderness and love.

Finally, Matthew pulled apart. "Besides, I suppose after we announce it, we'll have to spend all our time together with chaperones." He uttered the final word like a bitter curse. "So tomorrow will be my last chance to have you all properly to myself, until we're married," he smirked at her.

"Matthew!" she shrieked, blushing, and feeling impossibly warmer, even though his lean, hard body was already draped on top of her.

"Please, Mary, let me come see you tomorrow."

"Very well," Mary consented cooly, even though she was just as desperate for time together as he was, and they both knew it. "But that, too, will have to be a secret, I suppose, considering unmarried women aren't supposed to spend time all alone with a man, especially doing what you seem to be suggesting."

"You make me sound like such a scoundrel," Matthew smirked further.

"Perhaps, Mr. Crawley, because you are."

"Very well. If your ladyship can find it in her heart to spare this very middle class ruffian the time of day, she will meet him by the large cedar tree on the edge of the property "

With that, Matthew granted a final kiss before dragging himself off of Mary, and heading towards the door.

Originally Mary planned on telling no one where she was going, but figuring that it would seem more suspicious if she simply vanished into thin air, she informed Anna as her friend handed her her winter coat, "I'm just going for a winter walk around the grounds, if anyone should ask after me, Anna."

"Very good, milady," Anna smiled. With a bounding heart, Mary quickly slipped out the door and headed off before anyone could stop her.

The pounding of her heart only increased as she caught sight of the tall, sturdy figure of Matthew as he stepped out from behind a tree, beaming as he greeted her.

Matthew: her fiancé.

A smile split her face at the thought, even as he scooped her in his arms and spun her around again. If this was becoming a common occurrence... She could definitely live with that.

They kissed and finally he set her down, although they write both breathless and giggling. They stared at each other, eyes glinting, until finally Matthew, cheeks pink, said shyly, "hi."

"Hi," Mary greeted, feeling a pleasant swarm of butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

"I missed you. I thought about you alllll night," Matthew said, his voice dropping low, sending a shiver through Mary.

"My my!" she responded, for she could think of nothing else. The idea of Matthew, thinking about her, in his bed, all night, made her a bit faint.

"Mhm," Matthew continued, his voice still low and smooth, his eyes dark, "and I'd very much like to share some of those thoughts with you someday."

Mary thought she would melt from the smolder he had fixed upon her. He was close, so close, her fingers still gripping the wool sleeves of his upper arms with intensity, his flushed face level with hers, his warm breath curling in little steamy puffs in the cold and stirring the air around her lips, which were feeling impossibly dry...

"But I do have other plans for us today," and suddenly he straightened, seeming entirely unaffected by their previously unsettling, close proximity. Mary stumbled slightly at the motion, gripping his arm more tightly to avoid falling over.

Matthew chuckled even as he reached out to steady her. "My dear, I do hope you've brought your sense of grace with you; you're going to need it for my plans today."

Regaining her composure, Mary retorted, "Of course, darling. Like a proper lady, I'm never without it. If you must know, it looked as if you were going to fall there, and I didn't want you injuring yourself."

Matthew laughed and replied, "How admirable of you." Inside, though, his heart was dancing. Darling. She'd called him darling. It was impossible not to smile at that, for it meant he was finally hers. How right the world had finally been set last night!

They took off in amiable silence down the snowy path, Mary holding Matthew's arm. As their journey continued, Mary's curiosity began to get the better of her. "So... May I inquire as to where this mysterious activity takes place?"

"You'll see," Matthew smiled smugly, continuing on without seeming the least bit perturbed by the loud huff she let out.

"You should know, for future reference in our marriage," the prospect caused a thrilling ripple to course through them both, "that I don't like surprises."

"You seemed to like the one last night well enough."

"After seven years, it's a hardly a surprise anymore. It seems more of an impossible dream." She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth, as Matthews stops walking. He doesn't look angry though, just sad, the pain heavy in his puppy dog blue eyes. She cursed herself; she's already seen them sad enough to last a lifetime, how could she bring more tears into them? Sometimes her tongue was too fast, even for her.

"I'm sorry, Mary. I'm sorry for being so bloody foolish, and for putting you through all the pain these years, for being so damn stupid, and for saying that we were cursed.."

"Stop it, Matthew. It's not your fault, or, at least, it's not just yours. Can't we just forget about it? We've had so few reasons to be happy these past years, but we have one now, and more importantly, we have each other now, so let's just focus on that for today, please?"

"Very well," he agrees, smiling tenderly at her, although it still doesn't quite meet his eyes. Then, more enthusiastically, "Here we are!"

Mary turns to regard the sight in front of her. They are still very much in the woods, with nothing notable around, not even a bench, just a large, open muddy area.

"And where exactly is 'here,' Matthew?" she arches an eyebrow.

"Don't you recognize it? It's the pond!"

"Indeed! Well I hope you weren't fancying a swim today, darling, otherwise I feel you'll be quite disappointed."

Mary still is uncertain why they're here, and the fact delights Matthew a little.

"No, with all that ice, it's not fit for swimming... but certainly for skating!" Matthew pulls two pairs of skates out of the bag she had rather disregarded that he was carrying, and looks at her with eager anticipation.

"Where ever did you get those?" Mary asks incredulously.

"I had Bates help me round up yours this morning, and mine were at home," Matthew continues smiling, now a bit nervously, since her overall reaction is still rather unreadable. "You do... like skating... don't you?"

"Well, I haven't gone really since I was a girl... but I did enjoy back then, so I don't see why I shan't now!" she responded quickly to assure Matthew. "But you must promise not to laugh if I'm perfectly awful!" she added.

"Why on earth would I laugh at you?" Matthew responded with a playful glint in his eye as he bent down to unlace the skates. "Besides, you covered faithfully for me and my abominable shooting skills; it only seems fair I repay the favor."

They both dressed up their skates, wobbling across the hard, frosty ground, Matthew led Mary to a part of the shore barren of reeds and other obstructions. Tentatively they made their way out onto the ice, Mary once again gripping Matthew's arm furiously as they slid out.

It was far from a perfect rink, lumpy in some areas, and coated in snow in many more, but as far as Mary was concerned, it was better than any of the more prestigious rinks she had visited while in London because she was here with Matthew.

As they both found their footing, she loosened her death grip on his arm, slipping down instead to warmly grasp his gloved hand, less for balance and more so she was holding him.

Skating together, Matthew and Mary experienced a compassionate peace that had long been absent in their relationship. There were no siblings to avoid, no parents to comply with, no haughty society members to impress, no other fiancés to remember- just Matthew and Mary, alone, together.

Every once in a while they'd glance at each other and smile, or giggle, blushing, feeling like giddy children holding the hand of their sweetheart for the first time, rather than two people who had been deeply, passionately, painfully in love for close to a decade. They skated together with an innocence many had long believed destroyed in the war, one which they themselves believed lost long before then even.

Again and again they turned across the dull brown pond, even as flakes floated gently through the air. Finally, Mary released her fiancé's hand. "I think I've got the hang of it again," she said, gliding farther away from him.

"Do you?" said Matthew, eyeing her form appreciatively, despite the layers and layers covering her.

"Mhm... In fact... how about a race, from here to the other side. Ready, set, go!" Mary took off swiftly, taking advantage of Matthew's unpreparedness, as well as his... moment of distraction.

"Not fair!" Matthew called even as he skated after her.

Laughing, Mary easily beat him to the other side, but although her skating skills had returned, Mary Crawley had never been good at stopping in her life, especially in skating. Suddenly she found herself flipping over and plummeting hard to the ice with an oof.

"Mary!" Matthew called with concern as he flew towards her sprawled-out form. Matthew normally was decent at stopping, but with all of the momentum he had generated for his speed, he found himself unable to at the time, so instead he settled for swerving away from her. This seemed to have been successful until he heard her yelp and felt a lurch as he skated over her hand. Stumbling slightly, he fell quickly to his knees, the ice cracking alarmingly from the impact. Cautiously he crawled over towards her, gathering her in his arms. "Oh God, Mary, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

Mary squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that had smarted them, accompanying the sudden burst of pain. "Yes, i think so, it's just my fingers."

"Oh God," Matthew breathed again, gently lifting the hand in question and gingerly sliding off the glove, his heart cracking at the sight of Mary wincing.

"Can you... can you move them?" he said, eyeing them. They didn't seem to be broken, but were definitely swollen.

"Yes, but it stings!" Mary hissed.

"Here, we have to apply cold to reduce the swelling." He wrapped them in her glove to eliminate initial contact before scooping up a clump of snow and pressing it gently against it. Mary scooched herself more directly into his lap, then turned and buried her face in the crook of his neck and shoulder. His one arm drew her clumsily nearer even as he gently held the snow onto her hand. Mary concentrated on the warm, solid feel of him beneath and around her instead of the biting pain in her hand. She inhaled the scent of aftershave and Matthew wafting from his neck, and pressed her face even closer to the expanse of free skin she found there, finding it soothing. With her free hand, she pulled him tighter, reveling in the comforting feel of him holding her, caring for her, loving her.

At last the pain began to subside. Matthew seemed to realize this as he carefully lifted her hand up to his mouth to inspect it. "Well, the swelling seems to have gone down a bit. Does it feel any better?" his eyes shifted earnestly to hers.

"A bit."

Matthew bent his head forward and pressed several soft kisses across the backs of her knuckles, and Mary felt her pulse quicken. "Now?"

"What... oh maybe?" she answered distractedly.

He leaned forward again, until his warm, impossibly soft lips were now pressing against the sensitive skin of her inner wrist repeatedly. "Now?" he murmured against her skin again.

"Almost," she replied breathily, eyelids fluttering at the sensation. Her sleeves inhibiting his trailing lips, he skipped the expanse of her arm directly to her own lips, pressing them softly there at first.

"Now?" he whispered, between kisses.

"Mmmm. Just about."

Matthew kissed her for a few more minutes, before finally pulling away. "Alright, we should go. Doctor Clarkson should probably have a look at those anyway, even if you think they're feeling better."

Despondent at this idea, Mary pulled Matthew in for another kiss, this time, more forceful. Her injured hand looped around his neck, playing deftly with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck which were loose beneath his cap, but the other one dropped to the ground and picked up a handful of snow. She returned it to the back of his neck, fiddling with his collar then-

"Agh! Mary! That is cold! What did you do that for!" Matthew cried, pulling apart from her, his body tensing at the sudden intrusion she had dropped down the back of his shirt.

Mary giggled playfully, "Well, Matthew, I do think I owed you one after this incident. Besides," and her voice dropped to a lower, more sultry tone, "you'll have to undress now to get it out, and then I'll have to help you warm up."

Matthew gulped visibly, a bright blush coloring his cheeks, which amused Mary further.

"Um, darling, as... as pleasant as that sounds... I hardly think even you could warm me up here, especially if I'm... I'm... removing clothing. And that would be highly, highly improper." The delightful flush had crept from his cheeks and boyish features down his neck, only increasing the cockiness of Mary's smile.

"My, my, Matthew, do you really such a lack of faith in my abilities? Perhaps I should withdraw my services for that offense!" she teased him.

"Now, I hardly meant that, darling... but we are in the middle of an icy pond... and you really should see Clarkson..."

"Well, Matthew, lucky for you, I know somewhere more convenient, so perhaps you will let me lead you there, and then you might reconsider." Mary rose confidently to her feet, and Matthew followed. This time, though, he was the unsteady one, almost gripping Mary's arm as they made their way off the ice.

They changed to their normal shoes and Mary strode confidently off, Matthew about half a step behind her. "I thought you didn't know where we were. How... how are you planning to find this place?" Matthew inquired, trying to keep his mind off the nervous anticipation and desire which was flowing through his veins, already starting to make it difficult for him to think (or walk) straight.

"I didn't recognize it at first, because I've never been here in the winter, but I remember now. Do try to keep up," Mary replied, glancing back at Matthew, her fingers tugging on his sleeve. Even this minute brush of contact set his cheeks aflame again. "Trust me, darling, my imagination is miles ahead of us," he retorted before he had a chance to check himself. Proudly he noticed Mary's stride falter slightly, and when she turned to him, her own cheeks were rosy, and not just from the cold.

"Well, Mr. Crawley, I keep hearing about this wonderful sense of imagination of yours... I look forward to seeing it in action."

He smiled saucily at her, and she tried to return the expression, but beneath both of their facades was still a layer of youthful nervousness. Then Mary was pushing open the gray-brown door of a small cottage, and they were slipping inside, and then, in that small space, they were somehow, stiflingly, intoxicatingly, more alone than they had been all afternoon.

"Are you... quite certain... you don't need Clarkson right now?" Matthew tried halfheartedly one last time, even though his breathing was already short, his eyes were already meeting her own dark ones, then dropping to her lips...

"Oh Matthew, Clarkson's not the person I need right now... and I think you feel the same way," Mary replied softly, before winding her arms around his neck again and crushing her mouth, and then her body, passionately against him. Pressing him up against the wall, she dragged her body even closer to his, rubbing her hips slightly against his own, so that she could already feel the hard bulge growing in his trousers. "Mmmm," she moaned into his mouth, which had opened at her ministrations, "yes, you definitely don't need Clarkson now either." Matthew groaned as the hot, open mouthed kisses continued, until her tongue slipped into his mouth and caressed his own. That, combined with the incessant grinding of her hips against his front, and the feeling of her soft curves pressed so snugly to his own, finally released all his restraint. He growled as he rolled them so now she was pressed against the wall, and sucked her hot tongue into his mouth, drawing another moan from her. One hand trailed down her side, grazing slightly over the side of her breast, drawing a short gasp from her at the contact, until he found her lean leg and lifted it to wrap around his waist. He leaned closer to her, rolling his hips more forcefully against her center, and although they were both panting needfully at the sensation, because of the many layers of clothing, it was barely enough at first and not nearly enough as he continued the pace. Mary's hands unclasped from around his neck and began pulling desperately at his jacket. "Take it off, Mr. Crawley, you'll catch a cold from the snow," she commanded between gasps and kisses, and he obeyed, although it was hardly due to the snow anymore. Together they frantically pried the coat from his body, then his jacket, and then started on the buttons of his shirt, tearing some of them off in their haste to discard the vestment. Immediately upon finishing, Matthew crushed Mary against him again, and Mary's hands began roaming across the newly bared flesh, exploring the strong feel of his shoulders, the sculpted muscles of his back, and the smattering of gold hair across the front of his chest. Matthew groaned into her mouth as her fingernails scraped his skin, sending jolts through his body. While on hand continued to smooth along his body, the other reached up to tangle in his irresistible locks of soft, damp, dark blonde hair. Matthew positively purred as she caressed his scalp. His mouth dropped from hers, sucking feverishly at her the skin of her throat. The intense, wet kisses made Mary feel limp as he pressed her again against the wall and began tugging instead at the buttons of her own coat. Aggressively he disrobed her, as Mary screwed her eyes shut, helpless to help him as she lost her self in the glorious sensations of his hands tracing her body, his mouth lapping at her creamy skin, nipping at her collar bones. He pulled her shirt open to expose her breasts, which were already pert... and not because of the cold... and as he began to kiss her décolletage even as he pulled at her nipples with his fingers. She released a loud moan and fell into his arms. His own knees went weak at the noise, and they collapsed into a delicious tangle of limbs upon the soft pile of discarded clothing which had collected on the ground.

On top of him, Mary marveled in the erotic feeling of his hard body beneath her. She kissed him languidly across the mouth, drawing his body lip into her mouth and biting it, eliciting another deep rumble from Matthew. Tentatively her hand slipped across his stomach, tracing across the divide of his waistband, and skimming along the outline of him through his pants. Matthew hissed, his neck arching back against the floor. Mary had touched him only once like this, years before, on the night of Sybil's ball, and yet that touch had haunted him through the years. Many a night, in the trenches, he had tried to recall that touch with his own hand; it was one of the few memories that could dispel the horrors around him, although he never quite captured the electric feel of her slender fingers grazing over him.

"Yesss," he breathed as she ran her hand across him again, more firmly. "You have no idea how long I've dreamed of this," he whispered huskily.

"This?" Mary smiled coquettishly, gripping him harder, and Matthew tried to answer, but he found speech utterly impossible, so he merely grunted in affirmation.

"Just my hand?" Mary teased again, even as his hips raised slightly to rub against the delicious friction of her hand more surely.

"And... your mouth..." Matthew moaned almost incoherently. If he had been in his right mind, he would have felt horrible forward, embarrassed even, at such a wanton admission, but now he was quite out of his mind with desire and couldn't bother with it.

Mary smiled again, lowering her mouth to his again. "Like this?" she kissed him deeply, their tongues probing each other, teeth grazing each other deliciously.

"Not... not quite..." Matthew answered.

"Like this?" she repeated, lowering herself again to suck on the sensitive place in his neck where his heart hammered furiously. Matthew cried out again and arched against her, seeking more pressure, for all he could feel were her fingers circling his sensitive tip, the peaks of her hard nipples glancing across his sleek flesh, and the feel of her warm, moist mouth latched upon his throat, and it was maddening, maddening...

"Nearly," he croaked out, against the huge lump in his throat.

Mary's mouth continued down, kissing against his salty flesh and over his hammering heart and his heaving chest, leaving cool wet marks across his hot skin. Her peaks continued to graze his body as she continued on her downward path, and her slender, nimble fingers continued to tease at his plump tip through his pants. He wanted desperately to watch her but his eyes screwed shut at the exquisite pleasure of it. At least she reached navel, and placed a kiss over it. She was close, so close... and so was he... Her tongue slipped between her lips and left a glistening trail across his skin as it slid from his navel down to the waistband of his pants. "Please, Mary," he whimpered, but it started back up, then plunged into his navel.

His hands seized fruitlessly at the floor while his hips raised unabashedly to seek relief by thrusting into her sensual grasp, but he was met with cruel, weightless air, and practically sobbed with the realization. "OH PLEASE MARY!"

In a quick motion she yanked his pants down over his straining erection, and he hissed slightly at the feeling of his waistband sliding over the sensitive skin, before all he could think about was the fact that her mouth was hovering just above him, her hot breath blowing across him in a tantalizing manner. "Please," he cried again, and tentatively she kissed the top of his painfully aching member. She had planned to tease him longer, but he cried out and jerked his hips forcefully, sliding into her mouth. One of his hands tangled in her hair.

Mary was astonished yet pleased at his extremely positive reaction. He was warm and rock hard in her mouth, and she could feel his member literally pulsing with arousal against the soft skin of her lips. She flicked her tongue tantalizingly across his tip, and Matthew yelped, his entire back arching as he plunged as deeply into her mouth as possible, one hand fisting almost painfully in her hair. Mary continued to run her tongue up and down his length, her hands running across the skin untouched by her lips, and Matthew sobbed and begged for more of the attentions of her hot, tight, moist mouth. Mary grinned at the sight of him flushed, writhing beneath her, muscles rippling, his indigo eyes rolling back into his head in pleasure as he called her name again and again.

Closer... Closer... Closer... Finally, recalling all will power, Matthew begged instead, "Stop! Please Mary, stop!" The sight of her swollen plump lips, dark eyes, and rosy face nearly undid him as she looked at him questioning lay even as he pulled himself upright enough to drag her down on top of his torso and roll her under him. "Too close, darling," he murmured sheepishly, kissing her soundly. Mary reveled in the feel of his very heavy, male body, so deliciously situated atop hers, crying and arching into him as his fingers again glided up the swells of her breasts and plucked at her buds. Kissing her even more deeply, Matthew nudged her legs apart with one of his knees, gritting his teeth as he felt himself at her heated, moist entrance. Mary moaned at the contact, at the feeling of him there, and Matthew did too, as he could already tell she was seeping wet for him... Despite the overwhelming desire to plunge straight into her, Matthew raised himself up until he made eye contact with her, his impossibly blue eyes gazing intently into her own beautiful chocolate ones. "Mary, my darling, I love you."

Mary felt herself ready to shatter in a million different directions from the juxtaposition of the sensual intensity and the tender and the tender love wrapped into the moment. "I love you, too, Matthew," she cried, even as she urged him closer with one leg, although he needed no further encouragement after her utterance.

He slid deeply into her, and stars seemed to crackle behind both of their eyelids, as their bodies tended, clutching each other closer. Mary's fingernails dug into his back and Matthew's head rolled forward on to her shoulder, golden hair flopping in front of his eyes as they embraced and connected so unmatchablely intimately. Two souls, two hearts, long belonging to each other, finally joined physically, and at last, for a glorious moment, the world made sense in each other's arms. After the spell was broken, they began moving together, clutching at each other, driving into and around each other, gradually increasing in speed, until -

"BLOODY HELL!" came the third shout, although it was overpowered by the exclamations of the two lovers as they sank into ecstasy. Only as they descended into post-coital bliss, breathing finally evening, did Matthew have the energy to life his head and see Tom Branson standing at the door, red-faced, averting his eyes in bewildering and embarrassment.

"Bloody hell!" Matthew echoed, half raising himself. His first instinct was to cover himself, but after soon realizing that would be impossible because it would shamelessly expose Mary, and because they were on the haphazard spread of clothes, he quickly lowered himself again, trying to ignore the fact that his ass was still very visible. "Tom! What are you doing here?!"

"Tom!" Mary shrieked, folding beneath Matthew and desperately reaching for some vestige of cloth to shield herself with.

"Lord Grantham sent out a search party for Lady Mary and I was looking for her," Tom answered in a high pitch, the color still very much in his face, his eyes still fixed steadily on the ceiling.

"A search party? Honestly! What does he think is going to happen?"

"Well, at first he was worried somethin' happened in the woods, and then when he realized Mr. Crawley was gone... Well, his lordship is just concerned about losing his eldest daughter and his heir in the same day, but Lady Grantham had half a mind you'd eloped, or were at least together. And um..." Branson coughed uncomfortably, "It seems perhaps she was right."

"Oh my God, Matthew, we have to get back as soon as possible. They'll be livid if they discover the truth!" Mary exclaimed, frantically trying to push Matthew off of her to dress.

"You're telling me. I have no intention of becoming the target practice for Robert's next shoot... Or even the next target of Cousin Violet's cane!" Matthew quickly snatched his pants off the floor and pulled them on. "Brans... Tom, will you give us a minute?"

Tom was more than happy to, quickly exiting out the door. Mary and Matthew redressed swiftly; almost as fast, in fact, as they had undressed.

"We need a plan!" Mary said as she settled her hat over the worst of her untamed hair.

"We have to get you back to the house as quickly as possible. Technically I could be anywhere, so it'll be easier to come up with an alibi."

"I'll simply say I wandered too far and got a tad lost."

"Perfect. I'll join you somewhat later and simply say I ran into Ripon on some errands, and didn't feel the need to bother anyone about it. They'll hardly feel the need to question that more fully."

"I always knew there were advantages to marrying a lawyer," Mary smiled sweetly at Matthew before heading out the door.

"Thank you, Tom, for your help and discretion. We're headed back to the house, so perhaps in about half an hour or so you sent to call everyone home."

"Sounds good, Mr. Crawley," Branson responded, still not meeting their eyes.

"Good man. And Tom, you may as well start calling me Matthew since we are going to be brother-in-laws," Matthew said, smiling, as he and Mary hurried away, leaving a befuddled Tom behind them.

Miraculously Mary made it into the abbey undetected; a feat she herself considered less impressive since she had lived there all her life. Upon seeing her safe inside the door, Matthew stealthily returned to Crawley House to pick up one or two essential items for the coming family gathering...

"Mary! Where on earth have you been! And what happened to your clothes!" Cora cried, absolutely aghast, as her oldest danger drifted into the drawing room where she sat fretting with Sybil and an (admittedly less aggrieved) Edith.

"You look horrible!" Edith agreed.

"I told Anna to tell you I went out for a walk. I went a bit farther than normal, took a few wrong turns, and slipped on some ice. Honestly, there was nothing novel about it."

"Nothing! Your father and the servants have been out scouring the estate for you for ages, and here you come waltzing in here, like nothing's the matter. Your father thinks your dead, which is frankly much better than what crossed my mind when I heard that Matthew was missing as well. I had half a mind you'd gone and done something rash!"

"Matthew's missing?" Mary interrupted her mother's tirade. "That's why Papa is having a conniption. And don't worry about me doing anything 'rash'; Sybil takes care of that for the whole family." She retorted, winking at Sybil, who was pleased, rather than insulted at the comment.

Cora opened her mouth as if about to respond, but suddenly Carson walked through the door. "You rang, milady?"

"Yes, Carson. Please send message to Lord Grantham that Lady Mary has returned and he doesn't have to look anymore."

"Very good, milady," Carson exited, and Mary took advantage of the sudden pause in the fighting to exit, announcing she was going to freshen up.

When she returned, her family was one again gathered in the drawing room. Robert had returned, and was this time torn between mixed relief at the return of his daughter, and alarm at the state of his still-missing heir.

"But I don't understand! It's a... A weekend! Where on earth could Matthew be?"

"I have no idea, Papa! I'm not his keeper," Mary answered with mixed annoyance and exaggeration. They were right, of course, to assume she'd know where Matthew was, but as far as the rest of the world was concerned, there was no solid foundation to base this assumption on.

Just then Carson walked through the door, again saving the day. "Mr. and Mrs. Crawley here to see you, milord."

The room erupted in several shouts, loudest of all being Robert's. "Oh thank heavens! Please show them through!"

Soon after entered an exasperated looking Isobel and a slightly worn, if not excited Matthew. He caught Mary's eye knowingly as he stepped through the door, and a pleasing warmth coursed through her body as he jovially winked at her.

"What's this all about?" asked Robert urgently.

"I don't know! Hopefully he'll tell you! He won't tell me! He's been gone half the day - I have no idea where - and turns up all of a sudden demanding we head up here immediately, without the slightest concern over the alarm he's caused people, least of all his own mother!" cried Isobel.

"Honestly, Mother! You act as if I was lost in the Somme again!" He rolled his eyes.

"I am very sorry about all the panic I apparently invited here," Matthew replied contritely (an expression he conveyed exceptionally well, Mary decided, between his earnest disposition and his imploring blue eyes). "I simply ran into Ripon to run a few private errands."

"What sort of errands that you didn't think to even inform me?" Isobel cried in frustration.

"Well," Matthew said, taking a deep breath, and shuffling closer to Mary. "I had something very important to pick up, because you see, last night... Mary and I got engaged."

A collective gasp rippled through the room, then Cora squealed exquisitely, Robert shouted, "My dear boy!" and Sybil added to the chorus a "bravo!" Mary and Matthew, however, noticed none of this; their eyes finally, unabashedly, public ally affixed on each other as they exchanged knowing, smitten smiles.

"And so," Matthew continued loudly over the celebration, "I of course had to procure a ring for my lovely fiancée."

With a nervous flourish Matthew withdrew a soft velvet box from his jacket pocket and offered it to Mary.

"Oh Matthew!" she exclaimed, heart pounding as his fingers opened the lid, "it's beautiful!" Tears glistened in her eyes as she stared at the elegant diamond and white gold ring before her.

"You truly like it?" Matthew asked softly. The rest of the room may have been watching, but they were alone again in the world as far as they were concerned

"I absolutely love it.. But not as much as I love you!" Mary whispered adoringly, and an unreservedly boyish grin spread across the entirety of Matthew's face.

"Oh my darling, I love you, too," he slid the ring on to her finger, then scooped her into his arms for a deep, loving kiss. Only when it earned reactions did they remember the rest of the room, and broke apart, smiling and blushing, still clasping hands.

"Oh, my son, what wonderful, wonderful news!" Isobel still applauded, tear tracks shining on her face.

"Finally!" called Sybil, earning a laugh all around.

Robert rang for Carson and some champagne for a toast, and then the two newly engaged found themselves being dragged apart in the flurry of motion. As her mother pulled her into the library to discuss guest lists, Mary managed to turn and offer Matthew a knowing smile which seemed to say, "Didn't I warn you?"

Matthew returned the smile in agreement, and continued to look long after she had exited, absolutely besotted.

It was not until after dinner, when Matthew and Isobel were finally leaving, that Mary again chanced a private word with her fiancé. Playing with her necklace as he pulled on his coat, she inquired quietly,"I know you didn't go to Ripon this afternoon... So, when did you get it?" She flashed her brilliant new engagement ring at him.

Matthew smiled at her for a moment, then kissed her on the cheek. "1914. It's been waiting for you since then... Just like my heart."


End file.
